Coffee
by DouxAnge
Summary: It was Denmark's turn to buy coffee in the Nordic house, but that never happened. Just a one-shot that tells about the events that occur because of his mistake.


Something pulls me from the clutches of sleep, and I roll over and peek out into my room. My eyes, still blurry from sleep, can't seem to focus. Blinking a few times, my lavender eyes focus on the stone face of Sweden, just an inch from my face. I jump back, my heart racing.

"What the hell, Sweden?!" I yell, causing him to silence me by covering my mouth with an overly large hand. His stare is intense, and I fall silent and slowly sit up as Sweden removes his hand from my mouth.

"Come," the stoic giant commands, making sure to keep quiet.

"Why?" I ask, crawling out of bed. Sweden remains silent, but he grabs my wrist and drags me into the hallway. He glances around nervously, his icy blue eyes constantly scanning our surroundings.

Well this can't be good, I think as Sweden shoves me into Denmark's room. He shakes the viking awake, motioning for him to remain silent. With both me and Den following, the taller man scans the hallway before dashing down it.

Trying my best to keep up, I can't help but wonder why Sweden is so nervous. We twist and turn through the house, making our way swiftly to the basement. Sweden glances at his watch, and his eyes widen in horror. Faster than I thought possible, I'm being shoved into a closet with Denmark, with Sweden standing in front of the door.

The unmistakable sound of the lock clicking into place assaults my ears in the silent space, and my blood turns to ice.

"Sweden? Why did you lock us in a closet?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

The man says nothing, just standing in front of the door protectively.

"Sweden?" Den asks, his fear showing in his voice.

"There's no coffee," he replies after several long moments of silence.

"Way to drop the ball, Denmark!" I yell angrily. Den glances at his watch, and it reads 6:15 A.M.

A second later, something shatters in the room above us. We all jump, and Denmark hides behind me. More objects break above our heads, being accompanied by feral growls and the stomping of feet. This continues for a minute, and then everything goes deathly silent. I hold my breath, and I can feel the others do the same. Just when we think it's over, a bone-chilling cry rings out. In all honesty, it sounds like a creature straight from the deepest pit in Hell has started screaming in our kitchen.

I know that it's Finland and Norway, but damn! It's only coffee! Get a grip!

"DENMARK, WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?!" Finland screeches, causing said nation to scream like a little girl. Sweden glares at Den as his usually sweet 'wife' races towards the stairs. Norway follows closely behind his brother, and I swallow thickly. Less than a minute later, something slams into the closet door. Sweden braces it with his shoulder, terror becoming evident in his eyes.

"What do we do now?!" I ask, panic rising within me. Sweden just glances at me pathetically, unable to move as he continues to blockade the door with his body, keeping it from busting open as Finland throws himself against the wooden surface again and again.

"DENMARK!" Norway screams. "Get your lazy ass out here!"

I share a frantic look with Sweden, and we slowly turn to Denmark at the same time. He watches us worriedly, and I take an overly slow step forward.

"Ice? What are you doing?"

I say nothing, taking another step towards him.

"Take one for the team, Den," I whisper after a few moments, grabbing him by the shirtfront. He gives me the most pitiful look I think he can give, but I nod to Sweden anyway. He unlocks the door, and the second he opens it I shove Denmark through it. Once the other man is out, Sweden slams our shield back into place.

Both Sweden and I hold our breath, listening in heavy silence to the girly screams of Denmark as Finland and Norway get a hold of him. The fight that follows terrifies me, but the suffocating silence that follows terrifies me more.

"I kind of feel bad now, Sweden," I whisper, feeling guilt gnawing at my conscience.

"Well, at least they won't come after us now," my accomplice replies, the ghost of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

A huge grin blooms on my own face, and the guilt diminishes greatly.

"That's true, Sweden. It is his own fault, and he has to take responsibility."

On that day, Denmark learned to never forget to buy coffee again.

((I have to thank Eternal Fauna for helping me with the ending and grammatical things. This is my first published story, so please be nice! I really enjoy feedback, so please please PLEASE send me your reviews!))


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